


Nothing Compares To You

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Series: Love Supreme [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Celebrities, F/M, Infidelity, Jealousy, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Mutual Pining, Open Relationships, POV Sansa, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: When Trystane proposes to Sansa, she wants to say no, but she ends up saying yes.Marrying Trystane is not what she wants, but what can she do? The man she truly loves is engaged to another woman and probably sees her as nothing more than a sister. At 22, she's barely more than a girl, why would a 30-year old man be interested in her?Sansa has tried to get over Jon, but starring in a hit series as a couple who are falling in love hasn't exactly helped her case.Acccepting another man's proposal is probably the most desperate thing she's done so far, but who's to say she won't do something even more reckless when she sees Jon again after months of being apart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jonsa Week Day 6: Stars
> 
> An anon on Tumblr commented on Sophie's engagement announcement coming so soon after Kit's. I don't like speculating on real people's lives (especially after all the Rose hate from Kimilia shippers), but for my writer's brain it was enough to bring a new plot bunny to life :')
> 
> This IS a Jonsa fic, but I'll honour my source of inspiration through the setting and by including some details alluding to Kit or Sophie. To anyone who wants to tell me I'm a delusional Jonsa shipper who wants to believe Kit and Sophie are in love: don't bother, your comment will be deleted without response.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She sinks into the back seat of the taxi and closes her eyes, taking deep breaths to steady herself. I could still cancel. She could tell Jon something came up or that she caught a stomach flu, and he wouldn't hold it against her. But she's missed him. It's been months since they've seen each other, with their busy schedules making it nearly impossible to meet.
> 
> But now they both happen to be in the same city with a bit of free time on their hands and the thought of seeing him sends a flurry of butterflies through her stomach, giddy excitement warring with nauseating guilt and shame.

Sansa unlocks her phone and taps open the link Mya has sent her via WhatsApp. It's an online article from Lannisport Daily. The title reads: _A Closer Look at the Suspicious Timing of_ _Sansa Stark's Engagement._

 _Last weekend,_ Viper's Nest- _actress and model Sansa Stark posted a picture on her Instagram page announcing her engagement to former_ Martell Brothers'  _lead singer Trystane Martell. At 22 and after only seven months of dating, the news surprised insiders and public alike! But we have reason to suspect there's more to the young star's sudden desire to get hitched. The news came not even a full month after co-star Jon Snow announced his own upcoming nuptials to longtime on-and-off girlfriend Margaery Tyrell._

Sansa quickly closes the article and shoves her phone back into her purse. This latest issue is no different from the usual trash tabloid 'writer' Cersei Lannister likes to publish about her. The only reason why it's affecting her is that for once, Cersei's fabrications are hitting too close to home. 

She sinks into the back seat of the taxi and closes her eyes, taking deep breaths to steady herself.  _I could still cancel._ She could tell Jon something came up or that she caught a stomach flu, and he wouldn't hold it against her. But she's missed him. It's been months since they've seen each other, with their busy schedules making it nearly impossible to meet.

But now they both happen to be in the same city with a bit of free time on their hands and the thought of seeing him sends a flurry of butterflies through her stomach, giddy excitement warring with nauseating guilt and shame. 

Trystane sensed her melancholy after she received the news that Jon and Margaery were tying the knot, confused as to why it bothered her so much. Finally, in an ultimate attempt to cheer her up, he surprised her by proposing, assuming that's what she wanted.

She should have said no. They have only been dating for little over half a year and she's quite sure she's not ready for that type of commitment. After all, relationships are so fleeting in their line of work and they're both so young. Worst of all, it's not fair to him to make him believe this is what she wants.

But Sansa has always been a people pleaser, unable to say no to anyone, and when Trystane went down on one knee, gazing up at her with those soft, brown eyes, adoration clear on his face, her mouth went dry, all words escaping her, and she nodded, even with the voice in her head screaming that this was wrong.

 _You could still change your mind,_ she told herself after. People have long engagements nowadays and marriage isn't for life anymore. But even so, it wouldn't be wise to marry someone she doesn't love.

Sure, she likes Trystane and she's attracted to him, but she is not in love with him. How could she when her heart has belonged to another for a while now? 

It all started after season four of  _Viper's,_ when audiences and press started speculating that her and Jon's characters on the show were heading toward a romantic future based on their on-screen chemistry and the way their scenes were filmed.

Af first Sansa had shrugged it off as people reading too much into it. Jon was like her brother, how was it even possible people were spotting romantic chemistry and sexual tension in their scenes together? The idea of kissing him was ridiculous, a little repulsive even.

Then after the umpteenth time a reporter asked her about Jae and Alyssa's future relationship, Sansa snapped.  _"No way!"_ she told the journalist.  _"Never gonna happen!"_

As the interview took place on the red carpet of some award show, Mya witnessed her reaction live on television and immediately sent her a text.

_\- The lady doth protest too much, methinks ;-)_

At the afterparty, Sansa drank way more than she had planned. At one point she threw her arms around Jon's neck, the liquor making her touchy-feely, and almost planted a kiss on his lips, which she somehow managed to redirect to his cheek at the last moment.

Her hangover the next day was worsened by her shock at what she'd almost done. She couldn't make sense of it. Why had she almost kissed Jon? 

She got her answer later that day, when she saw him in the lobby of their hotel as she went to check out. He smiled at her when he noticed her and her heart leapt up in her chest. Then she saw Margaery next to him and her stomach churned, making her bolt straight to the ladies' room.

Marg knocked on the door of the bathroom stall minutes later, as Sansa was retching her guts out, to come and check if she was okay.

After assuring her she was fine and didn't need her help, Sansa slumped against the door, sinking down to the floor before bursting into tears.

Sansa was aware Jon and Marg had some sort of agreement that they could still see other people, which she supposed was their way of dealing with the high pressure on celebrity relationships. Marg wouldn't have even blinked at Sansa kissing Jon. The guilt that started consuming her had nothing to do with a kiss that had never happened, but with what it would have meant. 

(She did end up kissing him later, on set, and even though that kiss happened between Jae and Alyssa and Sansa prides herself on being extremely professional, she thoroughly enjoyed it. Turns out Jon is a wonderful kisser. The sex scene they filmed later on was mostly awkward and uncomfortable, but she can still recall the tingle that coursed through her body at the touch of his skin against hers.)

No, a simple kiss would have meant nothing, but the problem was that she had feelings for Jon and that she wanted him for herself. Marg had been like a sister to her, always ready to give her advice on fashion, boys and any other issue a teenage girl might be dealing with. She'd guided her through the minefield that show business could be at times for a young woman.

Sansa must be a horrible person for betraying her friend like this, for leading Trystane on, for-

The taxi driver clears his throat. Sansa blinks and realizes they're parked in front of the Visenya Hill Hotel. She's meeting Jon in the bar. She quickly pays and thanks the man and scrambles out of the car as elegantly as she can manage in her short dress.

She enters the hotel lobby, picking up her pace as she sees a couple of curious glances being thrown her way. If she's quick, they won't have time to realize who she is.

She pauses at the door, wishing she'd taken time to check her reflection one last time -  she can hardly get a good look in the glass doors - and takes another deep breath, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

Jon is standing at the bar, casually leaning on a stool. Unsurprisingly he's all in black, shirt and jeans clinging tightly to his lean but muscled form, and she takes a moment to drink him in.

She walks up to him, hesitating when she's only three feet away from him. He sees her then, a bright smile lighting up his handsome brooding face, and he opens his arms.

She launches herself into his arms, which close around her so tightly, he almost lifts her off her feet. She breathes him in, eyes closed, relaxing at his familiar, comforting smell, suppressing the urge to nuzzle her face into his neck or rub her cheek against his beard.

He's still beaming at her when he releases her. "Hey, San," he greets her.

She smiles back at him. "Hi, Jon."

The bartender puts a glass of whiskey and a crimson cocktail in front of them and Jon pays her with a nod. "I already ordered," he explains sheepishly.

"You better hope I like it!" she warns him, narrowing her eyes.

"You want to get a booth?" 

She nods and takes his jacket from his stool, following him as he carries the drinks to a quiet table in the corner. She folds both of their jackets over an empty chair as they settle down and she takes the glass intended for her, closing her lips around one of the straws.

It's sweet but a little tart- there are definitely strawberries and something citrusy in it- and quite strong. She glances up at Jon, who wets his lips, jaw a little tense as he stares at her intensely, and averts her eyes again before she can start to blush under his scrutiny.

She leans back and grins. "Official stamp of approval," she tells him.

He rubs the back of his neck while still trying to look smug. "Knew it!"

They chat about everything and nothing for a while, until Sansa remembers she should probably congratulate him again.

He takes a long sip, looking into his drink before thanking her. "I heard Trystane popped the question as well?" he asks, his lip twitching almost imperceivably.

Sansa leans forward, extending her hand to show him the ring. Jon doesn't have Instagram, so he might not have seen the picture yet.

He takes her hand, eyes on the ring, and purses his lips before taking another swig of whiskey. He sweeps the pad of his thumb over the diamonds, fingers tightening ever so slightly around hers. His hand is warm, but his touch sends a shiver down her spine.

She takes in the frown on his face. "You don't approve?" she asks in a small voice, something akin to hope fluttering in her stomach.

He squeezes her hand before releasing it and slumps back in his seat, shrugging. "You're still so young."

Something in his tone makes her cross her arms defensively. 

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business," he grumbles, still adding: "But you did ask."

She bites her lip and almost asks him to elaborate on his objections to her decision, but then his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the table. He glances down at the screens as it lights up and groans: "Seven fucking hells, Satin!"

Sansa's eyebrows knit together. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he sighs, smoothing his hair back. Sansa's fingers itch to do the same. "Satin has found himself a new hobby. He googles me and then sends me the most interesting results."

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh, Mya does the exact same thing. It's so annoying." She feels a blush creeping up her neck as she realizes exactly which article Satin might have sent him. She hears the question rolling off her tongue before she can stop herself. "What's it about this time?"

He glances up at her. "Huh?"

"What did he send you?" she asks foolishly.  _You idiot! What are you going to say? That it's true?_

"It's just more of the same," he explains. "Apparently I'm having an affair with Daenerys Targaryen."

"No smoke without fire?" she teases him, shoulders sagging in relief. 

He rolls his eyes, then shrugs. "I mean, we did hook up once, on a singles cruise, but there was no click... You know, sexually," he adds at the look of confusion on her face.

"Oh." She shuffles in her seat, embarassed that she didn't catch on immediately. She arches an eyebrow. "A singles cruise?"

He grins awkwardly, eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. "Theon's idea," he clarifies, which is enough explanation for Sansa.

"I'll get us another drink!" she offers, standing up. 

She orders a beer for Jon and a virgin version of the drink he picked out for her earlier. She's had two already and she has no intention of getting hammered tonight.

As she turns back around to their table, a balding man knocks into her, beer and juice sloshing out of the glasses she's holding and all over her cleavage and dress. 

She gasps at the cold sensation, fighting back tears as she tries to offer the man who's apologizing profusely a strained smile.

Suddenly Jon is there, taking the drinks from her hands before wrapping a jacket around her shoulders as he leads her away. "Come on," he mutters. "Let's go to my room so we can get you cleaned up."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what might happen in Jon's room... Any suggestions?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minimum plot, mostly smut ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work has got me exhausted over the last couple of days, but I really wanted to get this out. I hope it's not horrible and doesn't have too many typos.

Sansa stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. There's a large red stain on her lavender grey dress and some of it has seeped through to her lacy lilac bra.

She pulls the dress over her head and tries to rub as much stickiness from her clammy skin as possible.

She sweeps her hair forward over her shoulder to rinse the beer and juice from it.

Some of her mascara is smudged from the couple of tears she couldn't hold back once Jon had ushered her into the elevator. She brushes her fingers under her eyes to wipe it away.

She pulls away, taking another look at herself, and suddenly a reckless idea starts to take shape in her mind.

She's in Jon's bathroom, only wearing nice if slightly stained lingerie, already looking halfway debauched. She'll never get another chance like this.

It's a risk. If Jon still sees her as a little girl, she'll make a fool of herself. In any other case that would be enough to deter her, but the light buzz from the alcohol that still remains in her head, even after the shock of the cold liquid hitting her skin, is making her bold.

She runs her hands through her hair one last time until it looks artfully tousled and steps back into the bedroom. "My dress is soaked and utterly ruined," she announces as she walks over to the chair next to the window where Jon is reading a magazine.

He looks up and starts to say he'll buy her a new one, but when he catches sight of her, his jaw drops. As he closes his mouth, she can see his throat bob up and down. Internally, she does a happy dance.

He scrambles to his feet, muttering about getting her something to cover herself up. She takes a step to put herself in his path and smiles lazily, draping her arms around his neck.

"Always my knight in shining armour, aren't you?" she purrs, hoping her blush isn't ruining the effect.

"I - err," he starts, clearing his throat, once, twice, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

For a moment she falters, unsure of what to say next, but then she sees him licking his lips and she decides that sometimes actions speak louder than words. With her heart pounding in her ears, she leans in to kiss him.

His lips are even softer than she imagined and the scratch of his beard offers a nice contrast. His hands come to rest on her hips as he starts responding to her kiss, the push and pull of his lips making her heart sing.

Suddenly he pulls away, "Sansa, wait," he rasps, his thumbs rubbing the skin over her ribs as his fingers lightly dig into her waist. "San, what are you doing? Are you drunk?"

She blinks and shakes her head, pressing a quick peck to his lips before he can stop her. There's desire in his eyes and his hands are a searing brand on her skin, but a crease has appeared between his eyebrows.

She sighs. "You're right, Jon. I'm still so young. I should try to have a little fun before I settle down, right?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What about Trystane?"

Sansa stops the guilt before it can overwhelm her. "We've decided to give each other some space to experiment before we make it definitive," she answers, surprised at how easily the lie rolls off her tongue. She inclines her head to trail her nose up his jawline, nipping at his earlobe.

She hears Jon gulp. "Why me?"

She rests her forehead against his cheek. _Because I'm madly in love with you._ She pulls back to look at him and bites her lip as she lets her eyes trail down his body. "You're a good kisser," she says suggestively. "And I trust you," she adds, meeting his eyes again.

He doesn't make any objections or push her away, so she quickly dives back in, carding her hands through the curls at the nape of his neck to draw him closer. For a while he follows her lead, but suddenly his tongue gently starts to nudge her lips apart. He flicks it up to the roof of her mouth before tilting his head further to get better access.

She savours the flavour and feel of his tongue as it slides over hers, a smoky tanginess from the whiskey he had still lingering on it. He takes it slow, alternating between licking into her mouth and working his lips over hers, surprising her with a little suck or nip from time to time. 

A heady current starts coursing through her veins, a tension just underneath her skin that makes it feel too tight for her body and heat coils low in her belly.

His hands slide to her back and then down to her ass, making him groan into her mouth before he pulls away to lightly scrape his teeth up her jaw. "Hold on," he tells her as he grips her by the thighs to lift her up.

She yelps, automatically wrapping her arms and legs around him as he carries her to the dresser. He puts her down, running his hands up her sides and over her breasts, giving them a light squeeze through her bra, before sliding his fingers up her neck and into her hair, brushing his thumbs from her mouth to her ears.

Her own hands are undoing his curls from his bun as her legs pull him closer. He crushes their mouths together again as he bucks his hips, pressing his erection against her already dripping core. Sansa hisses when her back collides with the ice-cold mirror from the force of their embrace.

He retreats panting, pupils blown wide and croaks out: "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, yes," she whimpers, emphasizing her answer by helping him out of his shirt.

He throws it away carelessly, shivering as she drags her nails down his chest and abs. The lines of his body belong on the marble statue of some hero or deity. Slowly he caresses her arms before twining their fingers together and pushing her hands up against the mirror. A high-pitched whine escapes from her throat.

He leans in until his lips are hovering over the shell of her ear, hot breath washing over it. "Sansa," he groans. "I want you."

Three simple words and she's lost beyond saving. His teeth graze over her earlobe before his lips close over the sensitive spot behind it. He sucks and licks his way down to the base of her throat, dipping his tongue into the hollow there. Her legs grow slack around him and her chest is heaving. She arches her back to bring it closer to his mouth.

He chuckles at her eagerness and releases her hands to wrap his arms around her waist, hands splayed on her back. He kisses his way down her sternum, his beard scratching her soft skin, until he can plunge his tongue under the fabric connecting the cups of her bra. Her skin is already tingling under his attentions and he's hardly done anything yet.

He closes his mouth over her right nipple and ever so gently digs his teeth in. She gasps at the sharp pleasure, moaning his name when he cups her other breast with a large hand and starts kneading it, his mouth still sucking on her other nipple through the lace covering it. He flicks his thumbs over both her hardened nipples before lowering himself to his knees in front of her.

He grabs her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser, and shoulders her legs apart. "Your panties are soaked, love," he growls. "Are you this wet just for me, Sansa?"

His words send a jolt of pleasure right down to her clit. "Yes," she pants. "Just for you, Jon. Only for you."

He kisses her lower lips through her panties, his hot breath making her sensitive flesh tingle with anticipation.

She braces her hands on the dresser as he helps her out of her underwear. He raises an eyebrow at the heart-shaped hair covering her mound.

"Does your cunt taste as sweet as it looks?" he asks her as he hauls her legs over his shoulders. 

Sansa hardly recognises the man looking up at her from between her legs, but she definitely likes this secret side of Jon.

He nuzzles his face into the inside of her thigh, coarse beard tickling and wet tongue licking before his teeth nip lightly at her soft flesh.

He glances up at her, licking his lips and she can't decide how much of the thrill at the predatory gleam in his eyes is made up of arousal and how much of a primal fear.

But then he presses an almost chaste, tender kiss to her curls and she surrenders completely. 

Jon lavishes attention on her cunt as diligently as he kissed her mouth. He works his lips and tongue over her mound and folds, caressing every spot until she's begging him for more.

He only grants her the slightest reprieve as he starts licking up her slit, lapping up her arousal. He traces her entrance with his tongue, paying special attention to her perineum. 

It feels so good, but it's still not enough. "Jon, please!" she keens and he chuckles at the tremor of impatience in her voice. Finally, he closes his lips over her clit and hums as he gently starts sucking on it.

Her hands curl into his hair, desperate to keep him there, in case he's only planning on teasing her some more. She almost objects when he lays an arms across her hips, but after zigzagging over the hood of her nub for a short while, his tongue starts circling and he increases the pressure.

Her ankles dig into his shoulder blades and she's sure she's pulling strands of hair from his scalp with the way she's winding his curls around her fingers as she chants his name. He's prepared her so well, bringing her so close to the edge that it doesn't take long for her orgasm to take her. 

She cries out and he works her through it, pressing the flat of his tongue against her, as white light explodes behind her eyelids and her thighs lock around his head. He caresses the skin of her thighs and belly and before she can come down, he's already working her back up again, his tongue closing in on her clit as it whirls around it. 

Her second climax is softer but more sudden, her mouth falling open in a silent cry, and this time he does give her mercy, merely kissing the insides of her thighs before rising to his feet. 

She slumps against the mirror, hardly even noticing the sharp cold, eyes too heavy to open them. He surprises her by scooping her up and carrying her to the bed, gently putting her down on the covers. 

She scoots up and he follows her and she sees he's pulled down his jeans and boxers. She licks her lips at the sight of him.

He hovers over her, leaning on his forearms, leaning in for a kiss. She can still taste herself on his tongue. He lets some of his weight rest on her as one hand reaches around her back to unclasp her bra. She helps him remove it and he lowers his head to close his mouth over one nipple.

"So lovely," he murmurs against her breast, before flicking his tongue around her left nipple and lightly sucking on it, as the pad of his thumb brushes over the other.

She cards her fingers into his hair again. She loves the feel of it and how it looks a complete mess after her ministrations.

He's straddling her left leg and she can feel the leaking tip of his cock dragging along her hip. She cups his face, coaxing him to look up at her now.

"I need you inside me right now," she breathes.

His hand tightens on her waist and he reaches over her, to the nightstand. With a grin he holds up two foil packages. "Feel Sensual or Orgasm Intense?" he asks.

She grabs the Feel Sensual condom from his hand. "This one." She wants to feel him, not the ribs on a rubber.

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she rips the foil open and reaches down to roll the condom down over his length, enjoying the weight and heat of him and the way he bucks into her hand.

He flips them over and pulls her into his lap and she wastes no time, reaching down to guide him inside her. Slowly she takes him in, both of them gasping at the sensation.

"You feel so good," Jon groans into her ear. 

"So do you," she sighs back.

She moves up once, twice until she finds a rhythm and angle she likes, hips undulating slowly, arms wrapped around his neck.

"You're torturing me here," he accuses her, head dropping to her shoulder. "So hot, so tight. Come on, Sansa," he babbles, hands gliding to her hips to guide her. "Ride me, use my cock to make yourself come again."

He snakes a hand between their bodies to press his thumb to her clit, moaning with her as she can feel herself getting closer.

Her movements become more urgent, clit throbbing as her cunt tightens until her walls are clenching down on him, a wave of pleasure crashing over her.

His hands slide to the undersides of her thighs, lifting her knees from the bed until her legs are tightly wrapped around his waist.

Holding her with an arm around her hips, he rolls onto his knees, lowering her onto her back.

The new position allows him to sink deeper into her and he leans down to kiss her, bracing his hands next to her shoulders, slightly trembling as they both relish the feel of the other.

Her ankles are crossed over his lower back and when he starts pounding into her, deliciously stroking her walls, her own back is lifted off the bed, until it's just her shoulders still resting on the mattress.

She moves her hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust, but almost looking away from his intense gaze that's bringing a blush to her already flushed cheeks. He looks divine moving above her and she runs a hand up his thigh to feel his muscles flex.

Their skin has become clammy, her head almost feverish and there's nothing left but their bodies moving and moaning in unison, only amplified by the sounds of damp skin slapping together and her sopping cunt welcoming him again and again.

He feels so good inside of her and she can feel yet another peak building. "Touch yourself," he commands and she gladly obeys. 

She's still overwhelmed by bliss when his thrusts become erratic. "Sansa, I'm-  _gods!_ _Fuck!_ " His words dissolve into a grunt and a roar and his hips stutter before he drives into her one more time, impossibly hard and deep.

She lets her legs drop from his waist as he collapses to his side, pulling her with him. Turning to dispose of the condom, he pants: "That was- that was-"

His laboured breathing prevents him from telling her exactly how he feels about what just happened, but Sansa closes her eyes with a happy sigh and adds mentally:  _magical, perfect, the best sex I ever had._

She's already drifting off to sleep, when she imagines him brushing her damp hair from her face to kiss her goodnight.

***

She wakes up slowly, sunlight filtering through the cracks between the heavy curtains. It doesn't take long for impressions of the night before to flood her mind and she grins into her pillow.

She rolls over, flinching when her naked skin meets a cold mattress. She shakes off the momentary disappointment and gets out of the bed. After a quick visit to the bathroom, she wraps a sheet around herself, padding over to the dresser, the carpet soft against her bare feet.

There's a note and some cash in front of the mirror. She picks it up, suppressing a yawn.

 

_Went for a run. I left some money for a tip in case you want to order room service. Pick whatever you like._

 

Her stomach starts to grumble in response. She can't remember any other man ever offering to pay for breakfast after the first time she had sex with them, one-night stand or otherwise - not that she's had many of those.  _Fuck you, Jon Snow,_ she thinks,  _fuck you and your gentleman manners!_

She cuts off that train of thought, before she can start chastising herself over the stupid decision she's made, and instead she lets her mind drift to the idea of a nice latte and one of those fruit cups hotels usually offer for breakfast. It doesn't help, as a new fantasy starts to take shape in her mind.

 _She's lying on her stomach, legs up in the air, ankles crossed, as she nibbles on a croissant. Jon enters the room, sweat dripping from his curls. He takes off his shirt, glorious body gleaming softly in the morning light as he turns those dark eyes on her._ Perhaps he'll ask her to join him in the shower or maybe he'll fuck her on the dresser this time.

She shakes her head to disrupt the mental images.  _No, nothing like that is going to happen._ He's just being nice, giving her some space to avoid the awkwardness that would certainly ensue if he was in the room with her right now. She was lucky enough to get one night, but that's it. Now it's up to her to deal with the consequences.

She finds her bra and panties and puts on her coat without bothering to check the bathroom for her ruined dress. She mentally thanks the gods she wore a long trench last night. After a quick glance in the mirror to fix her hair and eyes, she grabs her shoes and purse and flees from Jon's room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for ending it at such an angsty moment, but I promise there will be a part 2 where everything is resolved in an unexpected way!

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning to end it here, but I'll publish a second part to the series in a couple of days. Let's just say the characters sort of took over and led the story in an unexpected direction... But that's for part 2!


End file.
